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Tommy felt numb.
Yeah, numb was the right word.
The cold win was nipping at his face and running its cold, icy hands through his hair. The sun was beginning to rise. The warmth from the morning not quite breaking through the trees yet. The orange and pink hues in the sky calming Tommy down, he always loved sunrises. His mind felt fuzzy.
Should it feel fuzzy? That’s not normal is it? Where was he again?
Tommy looked around him, it was a building.
Did he fall off a building? No, that’s not right. He would’ve been much more broken if he fell off the building. Did he have a concussion? His eyes watered, he felt tired. So fucking tired.
That can’t be a good sign.
He didn’t land his back flip. That’s right.
The last time he was standing, he was standing on the railing. He hadn’t fallen off the building. Tommy had been clumsy and hadn’t paid enough attention to his feet.
He never had to pay attention before? Why was this different?
His music had been blasting in his ears, while he was jumping from roof to roof. Nothing new. Parkour was not a new skill to Tommy. He had been absent mindedly doing it since 7th grade. Having a trampoline at his disposal at all times did not help his addiction to the adrenaline. He always made sure to practice his flips and tricks on the trampoline in his backyard before doing them out on the street.
So, what had he done differently?
He closed his eyes.
Tommy sighed at the realization. How could he have been so stupid? To not look where his feet were landing? He would’ve noticed the stupid patch of black ice. Tommy is sure that he would’ve.
His eyes unfocused again.
That can’t be okay.
Tommy reached for his phone, attempting to turn off the music that was still blaring through his headphones. He could still hear the drums as the earbuds laid on the ground to the left of him. But, as soon as he moved his right arm, a shock wave of pain coursed through his right side. A jolt of spikes shooting through where his hip should be through his spine, and down to his ankle.
“Holy Shit.” He grunts through gritted teeth.
What the fuck did he break? Jesus Christ, his head was foggy.
When he tried to sit up, and another spike of pain rushed through his side, he knew what was out of place. His hip came out of its socket.
He strategically placed one of his hands on the hand rails by his head, and the other one on the pavement as he mentally prepared himself for what he was about to do. He shifted his weight slightly to the left side, grunting, already out of breath and panting.
A mocking voice came through the fog of his head, “Maybe if you fucking stayed home, you wouldn’t be in this situation. You wouldn’t be in a possible life threatening situation if you just slept like a normal human being.”
“Shut up Wilbur.” Tommy whispered to himself as he heard the pitch of his older brother in his head. He knew that he was imagining their lecture that he was sure to get when he headed home.
“Okay, okay. I can do this.” Tommy quitely assured himself, as he lifted himself off the ground a small bit, groaning.
He quickly shifted, hearing a satisfying crack - which was soon followed by a terrible, pain ridden cry. He let himself fall back onto the concrete. His mind became fuzzier after he relocated his hip. Tommy quietly checking himself out for other injuries, while muttering small curses under his breath.
Everything felt like it was on fire. Everything was on fire - oh god, everything was on fire. It hurt so fucking bad, holy shit. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Holy shit. Fucking hell, he has never felt this much pain in his life. Make it stop, please, Please. Please make it stop, oh god. Please. Holy shit.
Tommy sat on the ground, hands in fist, eyes stinging with tears, his entire body tense, and completely still until the cold made him numb. Until the pain was bearable. Until it was fine. He felt fine. So he was fine. Right?
Nothing seemed too bad beside the small scratches and scrapes on his arms and knuckles, until he noticed how his jeans were ripped on his left side. He brought his hand to his side, he assumed that he should’ve felt a deep, fiery sting, but instead he felt nothing. Tommy’s entire hand came back red with blood.
Holy shit. He scraped his entire side raw.
Tommy doesn’t even remember skidding across the cement. He assumed that it had to have happened right? To end up in the position he was in?
Why was his head so fuzzy? His eyes unfocusing once more.
He needed to get help.
Shit.
He reached for his phone again, this time, feeling nothing. He fumbled, turning off the music and throwing his headphones somewhere across the street. He honestly didn’t care. He just wanted to leave.
Tommy quickly searched through his contacts.
Trying to figure out who would answer his call, who would come and help him. Who could?
Tubbo - No, Tubbo can’t drive. And Tommy would die before he tried to make Tubbo fix this.
SapNap - No. SapNap lives on the fucking otherside of Town. It would take too long. SapNap would sleep through Tommy’s call.
Techno - No - Techno would also sleep through Tommy’s call. It was too early. Not even Techno is awake at this hour.
Punz - No, Punz only has his ringer on for Purpled. He wouldn’t get Tommy’s call.
Wilbur - No. Wilbur would be mad. So fucking mad. Tommy’s head was pounding - he couldn’t take Wilbur’s yelling. Please, no. No way was he calling Wilbur.
Phil - No - Phil keeps his phone in the kitchen. He wouldn’t receive the call until morning. Phil would also be mad. Very mad. Tommy didn’t want a Phil lecture. His mind was so foggy.
Dream - No, he couldn’t - Wait. He could call Dream. Dream would answer! Dream lived pretty close to where he thought he was, and Dream could help him. He didn’t think Dream would lecture him. At least he hoped Dream wouldn’t. It isn’t within his nature.
Tommy weakly tapped Dream’s contact, the phone rang out twice before Dream answered, voice groggily speaking into the mic.
“Hey Tommy, what’s up? It’s pretty late don’t you think? Even for you.”
Tommy sighed loudly into the mic, “I don’t know about that one Big Man,” He grunted, pain still registering briefly in his brain, even if he felt so fucking numb. “Nothing is too late for me.”
Dream could tell that Tommy’s breathing was labored, he spent too much time with the kid to not notice something was severely off. “Hey Tommy,” Dream started standing up, looking around his room for shoes. “Where are you?”
Tommy let out a staggered breath again, “I think I’m across the street from that Subway downtown?”
Dream’s breath hitched, “You don’t know?”
“Can’t really see Big Man.” Tommy laughed, “It’s dark.”
“What happened, Fish?” Dream asked again, voice soft.
Tommy breathed out. He made Dream worry. God Damn.
The fucking nickname slipped out.
Tommy really fucked up huh?
“I uh -” Tommy shifted his weight so he was sitting up straight, no longer feeling the pain that moving brought. “I didn’t land my flip Big D. Fell about 10 feet I think? Must’ve skidded across the pavement. My entire thigh is scrapped raw. I think I dislocated my hip too - but I popped it back into place. Hurt like a bitch.”
Tommy heard more ruffling, Dream was grabbing his keys. “Stay tight Tom.” Dream refused to call him ‘Toms’ saying that it was his brothers’ nickname for him. Tommy didn’t mind that Dream constantly came up with different nicknames. “I’ll be there in 3 minutes.”
“Don’t hang up!” Tommy rushed out, taking a breath. “Please? I don’t want to be alone again.”
“I would never, fish.” Tommy could hear Dream’s car start. “I’ll be there soon, okay?”
“M’kay.” Tommy was so fucking tired, when did it get this warm?
“You can’t fall asleep on me, Tommy. Okay? You gotta stay awake.” Dream wounded rushed, he could picture Dream pressing further onto the gas pedal.
“M’ tired Dream.” Tommy slurred through the phone.
“I know, I know Tom. But you have to stay awake, okay? I’ll be there in a minute.” Dream pleaded with the younger.
“‘kay Big Man.” Tommy rested his head on the cement, it wouldn’t hurt to close his eyes right? He wouldn’t fall asleep - just rest for a moment. The ringing in his ears finally stopped. He was met with peace. The world stopped spinning for just a moment.
The two fell into a comfortable silence.
Dream realized what that meant, only a minute or so away, slamming his foot on the gas. “Hey, hey Tommy, you’re awake right? You said you’d stay awake.”
The phone line was met with silence, Tommy was too tired to speak, but he could still faintly hear Dream talking through the speaker.
“Tommy, you mother fucker, I swear I’m gonna kill you.” Dream grunted under his breath. “If something happened to you, that I could’ve stopped, I’m never gonna forgive myself. If you can hear me Tommy, know that it’s your fault that I feel like shit. Please, just hold on a big longer Tom.”
Everything felt heavy. Everything felt numb.
The ringing came back. Shit.
Tommy’s eyes opened slightly to the wind picking up on his face, the sound of an engine shutting down, and quick footsteps.
When did Dream get here? Had he fallen asleep?
A warm hand on his back.
Dream’s hand.
“Tommy - Tommy, are you with me?” Dream asked, slightly shaking the boy.
Tommy winced a bit, Dream’s warmth bringing more awareness to his mind. The numb feeling reeling back slightly, the flaring in his side registering when Dream touched it briefly.
Tommy let out a pain filled cry, shifted slightly away from Dream’s hand.
“Shit, holy shit -” Dream muttered. Tommy opened his eyes slightly to meet Dream’s own, green orbs flashing in concern. “This is disgusting Tommy, holy fuck.”
“Heh - I know Big Man. It’s impressive, innit?” Tommy mumbled, a small tired smile reaching his face.
“Tom. Holy shit. Can I pick you up?” Dream warily asked.
“Can’t fuck’n walk. That’s f’sure.” Tommy’s words slurred heavily together now, the pain really catching up to him.
Dream carefully snaked his hands under Tommy’s knees, making sure not to touch the bloodied side of his left leg. Another arm went behind his back. Their warmth burning through Tommy’s thin crewneck. “Tommy, you gotta put your arm around my neck.”
Tommy barely moved.
“You gotta help me out here Tom.” Tommy met that remark with his arm being thrown haphazardly around Dream’s shoulders.
“There we go Tommy.” Dream said, his tone lighter. “I got you.”
“M’ hurt’s Dream.” Tommy mumbled, breathily, into Dream’s neck.
“I know fish. I know.” Dream replied, as he unlocked his car door. “It’s gonna be okay. Okay?”
“M’kay.” Was what Tommy meant to mumble out, but it just came as gurgles.
Sleep welcomed Tommy.
Tommy welcomed sleep.
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Tommy woke up slowly. Consciousness climbing up the rings of a later, coming moment by moment.
Tommy noticed a few things first. The pain in his side was subdued. He was in some sort of bed. The ringing in his ears had stopped. His head felt slightly fuzzy - but probably from the lack of food or sleep he had in the past 14 hours.
He stirred slightly.
Tommy noticed a few more things. There was a hand carding through his hair. He was in Dream’s room. He knew the smell, the feel, the lighting. It was morning. There was sun coming through the windows. Someone else was in the room, he could hear them scrolling through Instagram in the beanbag that sat in the corner of Dream’s room.
The hand continued combing through Tommy’s hair, the slight tugs relaxing his skull. There was a warm body beside him.
Dream.
He shifted once more. The hand continued.
It was early. Tommy fell back into the depths of sleep.
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When he woke up the last time, it was noon. Tommy woke up instantly.
The person was still in the corner.
Dream, however, was gone. Tommy sat up, alarmed.
“Woah - woah. You gotta slow down, Tom. We don’t know if you have a concussion.” The person in the corner spoke quickly, and alarmed.
It was Karl. Karl was the person in the corner.
Made sense.
“M’where’s Dream?” Tommy mumbled, going to pull his legs to his chest, before letting out a painful gasp, and sitting completely still.
“He’s getting you some food. You were shifting a bit before you woke up. We both know that it’s been a while since you’ve eaten, you lengthy piece of shit. You need more nutrition.” Karl scoffed.
“What? You want me to get even taller than you Big K?” Tommy laughed.
“No, I never said that -” Karl rambled, tripping over his words when Dream showed up.
Dream stood at the doorway, “You feeling okay, fish?”
“Could be better, Big D. Throw me that banana, will you?” Tommy laughed, motioning to the banana Dream held.
Dream tossed the banana to the blonde, “Karl’s mom is a doctor. He wrapped up your leg, and made sure your hip was in the right place.” Dream informed, watching Tommy stuff the banana in his mouth, before tossing another his way, Tommy catching it with ease. “Do you need to see if he has a concussion?”
“Nah, he seems to be aware of his surroundings, no memory loss, he seems to be fine. Call me if you get a headache Tommy. I mean it - none of that bullshit. I’m watching you closely tomorrow at school. I can tell when you are lying. None of that tough man shit.”
Tommy watched the two talk as he shoveled the second banana in his mouth, “I am a tough guy, Karl. Big Man. Huge Man. I am massive.”
Dream looked amused, “You ready to confront Wilbur?”
Tommy paled.
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So, an hour later, Dream dragged Tommy to Tommy’s own house.
Wilbur was lecturing him.
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Wilbur was pacing. That was never good.
"What the fuck were you thinking Tommy?" Wilbur started, words slurring as his eyes filled with tears. "Why didn't you call one of us, we were worried sick!"
"I'm sorry." Tommy mumbled, looking at his shoes, kicking imaginary pebbles. "Can you please stop yelling? My head is pounding."
Wilbur looked at him with a mixture of worry, sympathy, and rage. It seems like a deadly combination.
Tommy was so fucking tired. He rubbed his eyes, leaving them redder than they already were.
"Why the fuck did you call Dream? Why didn't you call me Tommy? I'm supposed to take care of that kind of thing. I get why you wouldn't call Phil or Techno - I get it. But you know that I would've answered. You know I have my ringer all the way up for you. I know, that you knew I would've answered. So why didn't you fucking call me?" Wilbur was pleading at this point - but his tone was still plagued with anger.
"I thought you were gonna get mad!" Tommy's tone rose, but didn't get above a mildly loud speaking tone. "I don't know." He rubbed his eyes again. "I didn't want a lecture, I guess."
"I wouldn't have given a lecture - Jesus Christ Tommy, you got hurt, and you didn't fucking call me." Wilbur continued pacing.
"I'm sorry." Tommy mumbled again, quieter.
"Like - what if Dream couldn't help you huh? What if you had to go to the hospital? Dream doesn't have any of your information. Dream isn't a blood relative - they wouldn't even let him in!"
Tommy eyes got blurrier. "I already said I was sorry."
"Sorry isn't enough Tommy. Sorry isn't e-fucking-nough. You're supposed to come to me with this. Not him! Stop going to him, god dammit! Just come to Me, or Phil, or Techno for all I care! Just stop going to that bastard. You are our fucking problem. Keeping you safe is our job. Keeping you safe is my job, Toms. Just fucking come to me! It matters to me. I'm supposed to do that shit." Wilbur looked at him, teary-eyed.
Tommy didn't look up. "I don't understand why it's that big of a deal, okay? I'm safe. I'm fine. I'm a little banged up, but I'm alive, and I'm well enough to go to school tomorrow."
"Why it matters. Why it's a big deal. Why it fucking matters." Wilbur mumbled, hand in his hair. Wilbur screamed: "I'm your fucking brother Tommy. Not him. You are MY fucking brother Tommy. My responsibility. You're my shit to deal with NOT him. I'm your brother. Wilbur - hey remember me? Good ole' Wilbur. Your fucking brother? Dream's not your brother. SapNap isn't your fucking brother. Neither is Quackity, or Karl, or Ponk. You are a fucking idiot. I'M YOUR FUCKING BROTHER TOMMY. COME TO ME. ME. NOT DREAM. NOT EVEN FUCKING TUBBO. ME."
"I'm so sorry." Tommy mumbled, tears fully running down his face.
"It's bad enough that you are sneaking off in the middle of the night. It's bad enough that you don't seem to sleep anymore. It's bad enough that you are addicted to coffee at 15. That I caught you high. That you got massively drunk at a seniors only party. It's bad that you are the fucking - fuck up of the family!"
Tommy's breath hitched.
"But you are my fucking brother. And I will be damned if you call him before me, in an emergency."
Wilbur looked down to Tommy, his face scrunched painfully. Tears rolling down his face in a stream, water clouding his baby blue eyes. That was when Wilbur truly saw him. His fucking baby brother. Blonde hair sticking up messily, ruffled from sleep, bags under his eyes, lip split.
Shit.
He called Tommy the "family fuck-up".
"Toms. Oh my god - Toms. I didn't mean it. Holy shit. No, Tommy -" Wilbur reached over, but Tommy pulled away.
Tommy knew Wilbur meant it. God, Wilbur hated him, didn't he? He was the fuck up. He totally was.
"Please, Tommy. I'm so sorry. Please -" Wilbur engulfed Tommy in his arms, with minimal struggling from Tommy that time round.
Tommy, who had surrendered to the arms wrapped around him, found himself burying his head further into the familiar warmth, the familiar scent. It was his brother after all.
"I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry Wil. I should've -" Hiccup. "I should've called. I'm so sorry."
"It's okay, Tommy. It was always okay. You are fine Toms. I'm sorry. I have you Toms. I got you."
Do you?
"It's going to be okay Tommy."
Is it?
"Everything is gonna be okay."
It's not.
And yet, he found himself falling asleep to his own sobs. Relaxing into a familiar warmth.
And that was okay.